


Of lipstick and dresses

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: John is an idiot who doesn't recognise his best friend, Johnlock - Freeform, Lestrade is mentioned - Freeform, M/M, Quite a lot of lipstick actually, Sherlock is wearing a dress and looking pretty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-18 01:10:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3550505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock needs to catch a killer, so he has to wear a dress. John, on the other hand, doesn't recognise his best friend. That he lives with. And has. For several years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of lipstick and dresses

**Author's Note:**

> Yey, I have awkwardly written a fanfic again!  
> This also happens how I want Johnlock to become canon, because it would be adorable, and I really want to see Sherlock in make up. He would be so pretty.

There had been a murder.  
So Sherlock had to put on a dress. It was the only logical thing to do. 

There had actually been three murders so far; all victims had been young women who had nothing in common except just that they were young women. So Sherlock decided it was time to act decoy. Besides, it was ages since he had last worn a dress.

He chose a white dress with black dots, put on red lipstick and mascara and straightened his hair. It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

John came home late after work, when Sherlock was out. Well, at least he had left a note this time, even though it was hardly informative. “Went out”, well yeah I can see that, John thought. And since there was no food in the flat, and since Sherlock wasn’t home anyway, John thought he might as well go out and eat.

John decided on Indian food. There was a girl standing on the opposite corner from the local Indian place, looking as though she was waiting for someone, someone who wasn’t showing up, because she was looking rather bored. 

She was pretty, the girl standing at the corner, a bit taller than average, but with dark eyes and red lips. She had been standing there for at least half an hour now. She was looking very bored at this point. 

After a while, the girl walked into the restaurant and sat down by the table next to him. She was looking through the menu when John leaned over.

“I recommend the chicken”, he said.

At first the girl looked shocked that he was speaking to her, and she was just about to respond when the waiter came over to her table. She ordered the chicken, and then smiled at him. She was even more beautiful up close, she had a pretty smile and very blue eyes, and there was something quite familiar about her, but John couldn’t quite put his finger on what.

“I’m John, by the way”, John said and offered his hand to her.

She looked confused for the briefest of moment before shaking his hand. “Hello”, she just said with a slightly shy smile and a faint blush on her cheeks.

“So your date didn’t turn up?” John asked.

“Sorry?”

“You stood out on the street for quite a while before you came in here. You were looking quite bored.”

“Oh”, she said. “No, I was waiting for someone, but it wasn’t a date. And then I got hungry, so I thought I might as well eat, seeing that he wasn’t going to show up.”

“Well… Pretty close?”

She laughed. “Yeah, you did fine.” She smiled at him, while the waiter came back and poured her wine. The waiter asked the wine was okay.

“Yes, it’s lovely, thank you”, she said and smiled. The waiter took John’s plate. She turned back to John and watched him. “You wouldn’t mind staying and keep me company, would you? It’s just that I don’t fancy eating alone and you are as good a company as any.” She winked.

“No, not at all, I mean, I’d love to.” John moved over to her table.

“So”, she said.

“So”, John replied, smiling.

She smiled back at him, meeting his gaze before dropping her eyes to the table, looking at her hands, suddenly not knowing what to say. She was adorably awkward. Fortunately, John was better at small talk.

“You live in the area?” John asked.

The girl looked at him, staring at him before blinking several times. “Yes”, she said finally.

“Yeah, me too”, John said. “I really love London, I know it has its faults but I can’t help loving this city.” The girl looked at him, following him with her eyes, she looked utterly fascinated by him.

The waiter came back again with her food. The girl ate while John was talking. She didn’t say that much herself, she did comment on some things, but mostly she was just listening to John while smiling. She wasn’t very talkative, and she seemed to like that John stood for most of the talking. John didn’t mind.

She finished her meal and they both paid for their food and walked outside. They were standing outside on the pavement, not knowing what to say, but not wanting to leave just yet.

“So...” John started.

“So,” she replied this time, smiling at him shyly. They stood there for a while, until it got slightly awkward. John thought he might just go for it, since this was the last chance he got, and if she said no, he’d probably never even meet her again.

“So… I just sort of wondered if you want to go out with me?” John said a bit to fast. “‘Cause I really like you and I would like to meet you again and… stuff”, he added. He blushed now. This was embarrassing, he thought. He should have never asked. Why did he ask?

The girl was looking really shocked. A lot surprises this girl, John thought. She blushed and looked at the ground and at her feet and basically everywhere that wasn’t John. “Yes”, she mumbled. “That’d be nice.”

“Oh, okay, yes good, great”, John said. “Um, tomorrow at seven? There’s this restaurant at Baker Street by the bank?”

“Yes, I know it”, she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, good, good.” John said. They just stood looking at each other for a bit. “Well, I’m going this way” John said, indicating left.

“I’m going the other.” She looked at him with her big blue eyes. “See you tomorrow then.”

“Yeah, see you.”

John walked home, feeling really excited about a date for the first in… well, forever really. He really liked this girl. Wait, he just realised she had never told him her name.

When he got home, Sherlock was still out, doing whatever it was that he was up to this time. John watched some TV for a while, before going to bed.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Sherlock was, in a word, confused. He wasn’t confused very often, but he was now. He didn’t understand why John had asked him out. He especially didn’t understand why he had done it now. He had had plenty of opportunities asking him out in the past, but he had never done so, until now. Was it that he was dressed as a woman? Did John like that? Sherlock knew that John liked women, but he didn’t know that he had a thing for men dressed as ones. Did he think it was more “straight” or something if Sherlock wore a dress? Or did he just like him in lipstick? For all Sherlock knew, it could be either one, or all of them.

Sherlock hadn’t meant to run into John, but he had been hungry and cold, and it was obvious that the murderer wasn’t going to show up, so Sherlock had gone to the restaurant at the other side of the road, to eat, warm himself and hatch a new plan. Instead he had met John. He thought John would react in another way than not minding at all when he found Sherlock in a dress, but John seemed perfectly cool with it. Sherlock had been happy though, that he met John, so he could have someone to talk to, and people tended to notice you less if you had company. He could relax more with John there, even though he had to keep up the act and the voice and everything.

But John had asked him out! He might be a bit more excited about this than he should have been about just a tiny little date, but on the other hand, he had had years of thinking John wasn’t interested in him in that way, and now he just went and asked him about. Sherlock had blushed slightly too much when John had asked him out, but John had been quite awkward too, so maybe he didn’t notice it. That much. He must have noticed it. Fuck.

No, he didn’t have time to think about this now. He had a killer to catch.  
The plan was very simple. It consisted of three parts. Part one, getting noticed by the murderer: this was the hardest part. He had to find the right area to wait for the murderer. He knew that the next murder would happen today, it was obvious really, if you looked at the pattern. Sherlock was amazed that even the idiots at Scotland Yard hadn’t figured that out. But the murder would by all probability take place southwest of Regent’s Park, in an alleyway or something like that. Step two was, of course, recording the murderer confessing her crimes, yes, her crimes, obviously. Step three was calling Lestrade so he could deal with the arrest and Sherlock could go home. It was a cold night after all, and Sherlock only had a thin dress, instead of his usual coat. He really missed the coat right now, the coat was warm.

Sherlock didn’t have to wait that long before the murder arrived. She was easy to spot with her long red hair. Sherlock had no idea how the police could have missed that, but he wasn’t that surprised, to be honest. It was hardly the first time they had missed something that obvious. 

Sherlock got eye contact with her. Oh my, Sherlock thought, she was even looking for victims. Well, Sherlock wasn’t going to be the one to disappoint her. “Hello”, he said.

The whole thing was over quickly, too quickly for Sherlock’s taste. She had walked right into his trap; he hadn’t even had to try. Disappointing really. 

Sherlock phoned Scotland Yard, and was happy Lestrade worked that night, because Sherlock did not have the patience for any of the other morons right now. He could have memorised Lestrade schedule easily, but he couldn’t be bothered. He wanted to go home and sleep, he hadn’t slept for days. So Sherlock left the crime scene in Lestrade’s capable hands, well, as capable as any, which didn’t really say that much.

He walked back to Baker Street, since it was pretty close anyway. When he got home, John had already gone to bed, several hours ago it seemed. Sherlock pondered if playing the violin would be a good idea, but John would probably wake up and be mad with him and there might be some shouting involved, so he decided maybe not. In the end, Sherlock went to bed, since he couldn’t figure what else to do. And he supposed he was a bit tired…

When Sherlock woke up next day, it was already noon, and John had gone to work hours ago. So Sherlock got up and had a shower. After that he spent some time composing, to relax and stop his mind from overthinking everything that happened yesterday at the restaurant. He ended up writing a couple of songs to John.

John didn’t get home until well past five o’clock, and when he did he went straight to his room before Sherlock could even talk to him. John then occupied the bathroom for almost an hour. That probably meant that John was nervous, didn’t it? Sherlock loved the thought of that it wasn’t just him that was freaking out because of this date. Because Sherlock was freaking out. Because, looking through his wardrobe, he realised he had nothing to wear. After half an hour of staring at his wardrobe, the purple shirt with the black trousers seemed like the best idea. He really had to go shopping some day.

 

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

John had nothing to wear. He literally had nothing to wear. Okay, maybe not literally, but he still didn’t have anything to wear. Everything was either too casual or too formal. But, the girl had seemed to like him yesterday, so if he wore something similar to what he was wearing yesterday, it should be fine. He hoped. Which meant that he went with jeans and a jumper over a shirt.

Seven o’clock was approaching fast, and John didn’t want to be late, so he left a bit early. 

“I’m going out”, he called to Sherlock.

Sherlock opened his door and looked out. ” Right”, he said looking confused. Well, John did not have time to worry about Sherlock being confused at the moment. He had a date to keep.

It was quarter to seven when he got to the restaurant, and with no sign of the girl, he went inside and waited for her. 

At five to seven Sherlock showed up. Which was just great, because what John needed right now was Sherlock ruining another one of his dates.

“Hi”, Sherlock said.

“What are you doing here”, John demanded. He was not letting Sherlock to this again.

“I… What?” Sherlock looked actually hurt.

“Did you follow me or what? Because if you think you can just come here and ruin yet another of my dates, then you are wrong, I’m not having it.”

Sherlock stared at John. “But…”, he started, clearly at a loss for words. “You asked me out.” John had never seen Sherlock look so hurt.

“What, no.”

“Yes, you did”, Sherlock insisted. “Yesterday? Outside the Indian place?” 

Oh god no, John thought. Though it certainly did explain why she had looked so familiar. And so confused when John had introduced himself. “That was you”, he said slowly.

“Yes, of course that was me, who else would it be?” John saw realisation dawn on Sherlock’s face. “Oh, you didn’t realise that was me”, he said.

“No, Sherlock, I didn’t.” John sighed. “Would I have asked you out if I did?”

Okay, John changed his mind; he had never seen Sherlock look this hurt. He didn’t even have the power to stand up anymore, and slumped into the chair opposite John. “I brought the lipstick, if that helps”, Sherlock said weakly.

John started laughing, because this was really more than he could take, he had accidentally asked his flat mate out, who was now sitting opposite him, telling John he had brought his lipstick. John hadn’t even known Sherlock had a lipstick. And now his brilliant eccentric flat mate looked even more hurt than he had looked when he had looked even more hurt. It was a never-ending spiral of hurtness on Sherlock’s face and John couldn’t bear to look at him when he looked like that.

“Save it for later”, John said, voice low, grinning at Sherlock.

And Sherlock had never looked so confused and then he had never looked so happy.  
And then he was grinning back and everything was wonderful.

….………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

When Sherlock woke up the next morning, he wasn’t alone. In fact, there was a sleeping army doctor next to him. An army doctor with hickeys and lipstick marks all over his body. Sherlock considered it to be some of his finest work, actually.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I don't know if there is a bank on Baker Street. Everything else is true. And by everything I mean nothing.


End file.
